A Means to an End
by Vincentre
Summary: Beginning with the paladin and white mage, ending with the loss of an ally. This spurs comrades to battle one another; each spouting their cause is righteous. One for vengeance, another for the sake of bringing this eternal conflict to an end.


"Are you alright, Cecil?"

"Fine. But be careful," he warned breathlessly, instinctively reaching back in case she needed his help to steady herself while passing over the same spot he had nearly slipped on. One misstep and it would be a bloody, painful, one-way ticket down to the bottom of the mountain. The terrain wasn't so steep as to be problematic, at least if they didn't lose their footing, the crooked rocks protruding from the sides of the barren hill. The paladin had almost lost balance when he came to a certain spot, after ceasing paying attention simply for a second, missing the space where pooling water dripped off one of the jagged rocks and formed a puddle on the hardened surface where they marched ever onward toward the land of discord. Their allies were waiting. "Here. Take my hand."

Yuna squinted up at his hand as she realized he was right in front of her now; the sunlight blinded her, leaving Yuna to only see his slender figure outlined in light, and practically nothing more. As bright as the day had been, even to this waning evening as they entered Chaos' territory, it was a cold one—chilly and humid, despite being so close to a wasteland known for its heat. She wanted to leave this area quickly, having silently suffered the whole while. She was sure, somehow, that the world she came from was completely different from this place, at least for the moment. There were always sunshiny days, an overabundance of sand, and the ocean…

"If you require a break, then by all means, say so." Cecil's words snapped her out of whatever trance she had been caught in. Cecil was aware that Yuna was not like the other women called by Cosmos. She was softer, and could be perceived as delicate, but he knew better. She may not have been an up-close-and-personal brawler like Tifa, or the hack-and-slash sharpshooter Lightning appeared to be, but she was a fighter all the same. Different, and that was the only way he knew how to explain it.

Something about Yuna, whether it was merely her healing abilities or benevolence, pulled at some unknown emotion inside of him. It felt all so familiar, yet he couldn't figure out why. All the same, he treated her like he would any other woman: with the respect and gallantry engraved into his mannerisms since…well, he could only guess he had always been this way.

Yuna shook her head, causing Cecil's expression to shift to one of mild puzzlement. She had stayed a few paces behind him the entire hike. Cecil insisted, perhaps even borderline demanded, that he go ahead of her while climbing. And Yuna, never wanting to generate a conflict, complied with timid reluctance. However, she had her pride, and a desire to be treated the same as any other member of the team. Her female comrades had made it clear to their counterparts that they didn't need to be coddled or protected, they could hold their own.

That was especially evident dealing with Lightning. She was harsh, even cruel at times, and never missed a chance to speak her mind. Yuna could remember hearing of an occasion from Zidane when he, Bartz, and Lightning had formed a temporary party. Bartz had made the mistake of being chivalrous, and attempting to be a leader to make things easier, but of course that instance didn't end favorably. In short: Lightning didn't take orders. With Tifa, the warriors had gotten a different vibe. With her tomboyish assertiveness and gung-ho outlook with fighting, they had no trouble coping with her. Tifa was indeed one of the guys; the only difference, coming from Zidane at any rate, was that she was just a softer, cuter guy.

Then when it came to her, all of them seemed a bit tentative—careful, even. Chaos' warriors would treat her the same way, once in a blue moon.

Such as now, when she was supposed to be journeying alone to meet up with the others, mainly from her preference this time around. She wanted to be unaccompanied for a while, collect her thoughts, and search for Tidus along the way before going to the land of discord, though she assumed she would see him there at the very least. Yuna hoped that this time she could find him, but to no avail. He appeared before her once, accidentally, when she whistled—yet that occurrence never happened again no matter how many times she tried to call him that same way.

So, having decided that it was time for her to stop her fruitless search, changed course to the designated area discussed in the Cosmos Warrior's plans; the place where she would meet up with Laguna's team before travelling as a group into the heart of Chaos' lands. She was convinced she could make the journey alone, but Cecil was not the type of man to leave, even if she would eventually meet with the others. He escorted her on this expedition, partly under orders of their leader, but also due to his own concerns.

"N-no, it's alright. Thank you, but I'll manage," the white mage responded, meek and soft spoken as always. Her eyes lowered to the ground, reflecting her uncertainty as she seemingly ignored his offer. Seeing that she rejected his assistance, the man hesitated for a fleeting moment before withdrawing his hand and turned his attention forward once more. If she wanted to be independent, then there was no reason for him to pester her further.

Instead, he gazed up at the peak of the mountain. Behind, the sun was setting, meaning it was time to set up camp while there was still daylight.

Only a little further to the summit.

His leg weakened without warning as he took a step, dropping to one knee with a muffled grunt while reaching out to brace a rock next to him, only serving to slow his descent. A moment later, Cecil pushed from the rock, feeling he was able to stand again, but his legs wouldn't comply and he nearly fell forward.

His hand found the same rock again as he felt a wave of dizziness. His rapid breathing, now turned to gasps, let Yuna know something had gone outrageously wrong. The white mage kneeled next to him, witnessing him close his concentration eyes and breathe in deeply. But now she realized it—even in the waning light, his face was paler than normal, and beads of sweat formed wherever skin showed. If Cecil was truly ill, he had hidden it well. His back had been turned majority of the time, never allowing her to see the telltale signs of his illness. Was it poison? Could she help him?

The knight felt Yuna's tender touch on his bicep, her chilled skin a contras to this scorching, torturous heat that assaulted him. He lifted his free hand to gently push her away, shifting so that his back was against the solid pillar of support that kept him in an upright position. Yuna could get a full look at him now; even his hair was damp with sweat.

"Forgive me. I need a moment to rest," he breathed.

"Of course," she promptly replied, still guessing at his infliction. Perhaps he had an unhealed wound beneath all that armor, one that was infected and therefore affecting his health. Maybe it was due to the fact that he hadn't really taken a break in his travels and overworked himself? Or, the poison supposition. He had been warm when she touched him, feverish. How should she go about helping? What was the cause?

Cecil turned his attention to the mage with hooded eyes, she whom was fixed with a mixture of a sympathetic and apprehensive expression on her face. "You needn't worry about me. I'm fine—I assure you. I suppose fatigue finally caught up with me."

"Still…" She complained, trailing off into another thought. Then, suddenly, she inquired in a bashful voice, "May I?"

"What?" He asked quietly, but soon received a wordless answer as something cool touched his cheek, moving the hair that had plastered itself to his skin, and then drifting up to his forehead. It felt nice, her hand, and he allowed himself to close his eyes—partially out of weariness. Yet the paladin silently admitted to himself that at this moment, despite being in the middle of enemy territory and being virtually defenseless, he felt tranquil, and possibly even nostalgic.

It may have been sentimental, but he was fine with that.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She questioned, but knew he wouldn't reply. His head lulled back and forth, his strength and consciousness all but gone. But she stayed composed, much to her surprise. Yuna noticed that he had calmed down. She was glad Cecil wasn't struggling to breathe anymore as she watched him, removing her hand from his burning brow. He had a fever, which was obvious by just looking at him at this point.

Cecil let himself slump against the rock, fighting a losing battle to stay conscious. He heard his name several times as his vision became distorted, and then finally, he was wrapped in silence.

As for Yuna, she glanced around frantically, at a loss of what to do and tried to think of something—anything she could do at this moment. A shadow flickered across the pair, causing Yuna to rise, staff in hand. She was prepared, yet was not. If the enemy was too fast, she wouldn't be able to defend both herself and Cecil. Hopefully, it was a slower manikin. If not…

Then she saw it was not an enemy, but an ally; the dragoon had found them, settled at the apex, looking down on her.

"Kain…" She said softly as jumped down from his perch, nimbly landing on a smaller mound, then finally nearby the duo. Yuna could only assume he was looking at her through the mask that had once intimidated her, but then when he approached, Kain passed her without so much as a comment, going straight to Cecil.

He leaned his lance against a rock and bent down just far enough to press two fingers to Cecil's neck, not reacting in the slightest when he found a pulse. He moved away, finally turning to her, "What happened? Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm fine—and I don't know what happened. He just… At first I thought it was exhaustion, but—"

"Calm down," was all he said.

Silence passed between them, her staring at him, and he, she supposed, gazing back. The aura between them became uncomfortable. They didn't have time for this; she wanted to have Cecil safely hidden away—not stand here in the open for all to see.

Yuna sighed, attempting to release some of her stress.

She pretended not to notice when the dragoon's hand slowly found its way back to his lance, gripping the weapon as if he would strike. But then, he handed over his weapon to Yuna, and offhandedly tossed Cecil over his shoulder not a second later.

"Keep close and stay alert. We are not alone here…"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note (Vincentre Returns!):<strong> Probably gonna revise and reupload this today if I feel the need to. Never proofread, but I may do that this time. But yeah...my computer broke/fried/died/was sent to the Farplane so I lost all my data for the other stories I hadn't uploaded. And I'm not gonna be doing any restarts any time soon so...

Here's to a fresh start!

And even fresher procrastination.

-Optimistic Vincentre


End file.
